Et In Arcadia Ego
by T.S. Kerrigan
in Arcadia, California
Arcadia? I’ve been there too,
Though not the highlands Pan once knew,
Those sylvan groves of laurel, pine
Where satyrs, dryads intertwine,
But down among the lakes and flowers
Where handicappers fret for hours.
I’d go back go home, the races run,
And check how much I’d lost or won.
Whenever I amassed a pile,
Sweet Amaryllis flashed a smile.
She’d see my face and always knew
I’d won the stakes and claimers too.
We’d look in one another’s eyes
Outdoors beneath those classic skies,
Where summer nights are always warm,
And share The Daily Racing Form.